


Sweet Prince

by Todesengel



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-24
Updated: 2004-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is crazy, after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Prince

_"Good night, sweet Prince,"_ Sven murmured, running his hands through Lotor's hair. _"And flights of angel's sing thee to thy rest."_

"Singing eh?" Lotor opened his eyes and stared up at Sven. "Well, you're the sorriest excuse for an angel I've ever seen, but go on, make with the singing."

"It's a quote, you plebian. Do you think I'd ever call you 'Sweet Prince' on my own? There are many things that you are, Lotor, but sweet is not one of them."

"Hmm." Lotor closed his eyes again and pushed himself closer against Sven's side. "So what's this quote from, anyway?"

"Oh, just an old Earth play." Sven let his fingers trace the fine hair that made up Lotor's eyebrows. They were both naked and content, with Lotor resting his head in Sven's lap, and Sven almost wished that they could stay like this forever. His legs were getting a bit numb, though, so they'd have to move sometime. "'Hamlet', by William Shakespeare."

Lotor sighed and shook his head, tickling Sven's stomach with his hair as he did so. "Nope. Never heard of it. What's it about?"

"Well, there's this Prince," Sven began. He wondered if he should make Lotor move, as his feet had begun to tingle from lack of blood. But then he couldn't run his hands through Lotor's hair, or caress his lover's face. No, legs weren't worth it.

"I got that much." Lotor turned his head so that he was facing in to Sven's body, and planted a kiss against the Swede's warm stomach. "So, what happens?"

"Oh, it's kind of complicated. You know, murder and madness and long-winded speeches. But there's a nifty sword fight at the end--that's where the quote comes from. After Hamlet dies, Horatio--his best friend--is left behind to tell the tale of Hamlet's life."

"Huh. So, if I'm Hamlet, are you Horatio?" Lotor mulled that thought over in his mind. "I don't know if I like the idea that my life story is going to be left in your hands."

"No, I'm not Horatio. If anything, I'm probably Ophelia."

"Ophelia?" Lotor opened his eyes and stared up at Sven, again. "Who's that?"

"The girl that fell in love with Hamlet. When Hamlet--apparently--went mad and rejected her, she lost her mind. Her love drove her insane. And then she killed herself by drowning."

"Drowning, huh?" Lotor grinned. "So, if I rejected you, I could expect to hear that your corpse had been found floating in some lake somewhere, right?"

"Probably, yes." Sven leaned down and kissed Lotor. "I am crazy, you know."

"Yeah." Lotor wrapped an arm around Sven's waist and kissed him back. "I know."


End file.
